The Turning

By Julia Nelson

Someday I will be letters on a sheet
That you have found and you will print me in
Along the numbered line. As you begin
To note the land, the burial, feel the beat
Of my heart’s blood still in you, warm and sweet
From knowing, love, that you are mine—my kin.
I seldom looked so far that I could win
Your image from the future; could we meet
Beside my humble name upon this page?
For it can speak of more than place or year;
Oh, let it be a cord to draw you near
And tie us to each other. Mine to give—
A slender ribbon record—birth and age;
For you, the Spirit’s whisper that I live.